Formality
by Liisi Laukkanen
Summary: Cullen could remember every blasted event Josephine had insisted on throwing at Skyhold quite clearly. Well, he could remember Evelyn at them.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Part 1 of 3.**

Cullen could remember every blasted event Josephine had insisted on throwing at Skyhold quite clearly. Well, he could remember Evelyn at them.

The first - a sort of exaggerated housewarming - was held as his friendship with the Inquisitor was truly blossoming; when the shock of almost having lost her motivated him more than any fear of rejection. The previous night, when they'd shared a bottle of wine in the Herald's Rest after dinner and before bed (or paperwork, in his case) she'd confessed how worried she was about the whole affair.

"Surely the Trevelyans threw similar events?" He asked curiously "Or attended them?"

They were out of the way up on the second floor, no worries of being overheard as their words were easily drowned out by the festivities below.

"I was a very quiet child - very shy," she admitted and then snorted "Not that I've changed. I begged my mother to let me bring a book, she very sternly said no, and so I spent my time in the corner watching people dance and the other children play."

Cullen chuckled, warmed by the personal turn the conversation had taken, and the opportunity to know more about Evelyn before she became the Inquisitor. He could picture what she'd described quite easily.

"Not your idea of a good time, I take it?"

He found himself often looking forward to their evening chats. They hardly had an opportunity to get to know each other when in the roles of Inquisitor and Commander, after all...And he was beginning to find that the more he knew her, the more he liked her.

"Not at all," she ran a fingertip around the rim of her goblet "Then after the guests left, or on the way home, I'd get a verbal beating from my mother for not saying the right thing to the right person - or saying the wrong thing to the wrong person. It was like…she spent the night watching my every action, keeping a mental catalogue on what to berate me for."

Evelyn laughed softly, but Cullen caught the slight strain as she continued "When my magic showed, her exact words were 'Well that explains it. You always were an unnatural child.'"

Cullen said nothing at first, shock and then a rush of pure, cold anger swept through him at the idea of anybody saying such a thing to the woman in front of him, let alone her own mother - when she was a damned _child_. Then shame crept in, as he reminded himself that it wasn't much of a stretch from what his own opinion had been not too long ago. Her story saddened him, but it also acted as a piece of the puzzle that explained why she was often so shy and hesitant. Would he be any different if he'd had his every move as a child hounded and criticised? He doubted it.

He only realised he'd been quiet for too long when Evelyn shifted uncomfortably, and quickly rushed to reassure her "You don't need her."

"I know," she said confidently, giving a real smile now "An upside of the Circle was getting away from her. What I _do_ need, however, is a miracle to get through tomorrow night. I'll give Josephine and Vivienne heart attacks."

"You could always bribe Bull to outdo you. I'm sure any blunder you might make would pale in comparison to anything he could dream up."

"Now _that_ is a stroke of strategic genius, Commander," she laughed in delight, lifting her cup to her lips, and he found himself grinning in return.

"It served me _surprisingly_ well at chess," he remarked, smirking when she blushed and said nothing.

He knew she had let him win.

* * *

Evelyn was nowhere in sight for all of the next day, ambushed by Vivienne and a horde of attendants, no doubt. The Inquisitor had risen from the dead (or so the story went) and "must look like a fierce warrior goddess" to reflect that - or something equally absurd. He found himself relieved that he had a set formal uniform, and one which allowed him to carry a sword at that. He didn't like the idea of her going in with no weapon, but at least the Inquisitor was no less deadly unarmed; no small amount of eyebrows would be raised if she swept into the hall in a ball gown with her staff strapped to her back. With so many strangers as well as their servants in Skyhold for the night, he was slightly unsettled. Not that he didn't trust Leliana's extensive security.

Josephine had insisted on a quick meeting in the War Room between the Inquisitor and all advisors just prior to the party, to give everybody (which clearly meant himself and Evelyn) last minute reminders on who to talk to, and what information to fish for - if possible - as well as a last minute lecture on etiquette. He was half way through a remark to Leliana as they waited when Evelyn walked - or floated, rather - into the room. It was only when Leliana chuckled that he realised he'd trailed off, and his face burned.

Lady Evelyn Trevelyan was a vision in a sleek, rich green dress, the bodice encrusted with bright white jewels in elaborate designs, whilst the skirt was left plain, floating and swishing around her legs with the slightest movement. Her hair was a mass of loose curls, adding a certain wildness to the look, and with her eyes neatly outlined in kohl, every glance seemed brighter and more intensified. Overall, her silhouette defied everything that was currently in fashion in Orlais - and he got the feeling that was the point. There would be nobody there who looked like her. But could anybody? As she gave him a smile, he resisted the urge to straighten his back or adjust his attire, suddenly wishing he'd taken more care with his hair, or shaved more closely.

She walked to his side - Cullen dumbly noting that she was must be wearing heels, for she was almost eye-level with him now - and stood dutifully as Josephine lectured them like a weary schoolteacher. It wasn't just the Inquisitor's appearance that was different - she appeared to stand more confidently, with her chin up, shoulders back and chest forward (which only made her breasts all the more prominent in the strapless gown, forcing him to carefully train his eyes on her face whenever he looked at her).

"Of course, I have agents stationed throughout Skyhold, disguised as both servants and guests," Leliana assured once Josephine had finished.

"Excellent," Josephine nodded, failing at looking less harried than she clearly felt "Any questions? No? Good. We should stagger our entrances, yes?"

Knowing the question was more rhetorical than anything, they all nodded in agreement.

"Excellent, I'll go first!" She nodded "Inquisitor, we should save your entrance for last."

"Whatever you'd like, Josephine," Evelyn nodded, adjusting her skirts a little uneasily.

Josephine didn't look very reassured by such an unenthusiastic response, but simply nodded before bustling from the room - no doubt she didn't trust the entire evening to not fall apart in her absence. Only when Leliana made her exit, shooting Cullen a knowing look, did he speak directly to Evelyn.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, not knowing why he suddenly felt so much more nervous addressing her "You seem less anxious."

"Do I? Thank the Maker. Dorian suggested I...play the role of somebody who's confident, and that sounded a lot less daunting to me than simply pretending that _I_ am confident," she confided "And I always feel like I'm playing a role as Inquisitor, so it's not very different."

"Shall I bow to you then, Lady Trevelyan?" He teased in an effort to both lighten the mood and make himself less nervous.

"If you wish," she feigned haughtiness surprisingly well, nose up, offering a hand.

He noticed then that her left hand had an elaborate piece of green-stoned jewellery encompassing the back, coming down to attach at the wrist. He wondered if having the mark displayed in such a way bothered her - and it was only then that he realised all of the green was meant to be a reference to the mark. Initially he'd only realised that it matched her eyes, and felt like a lovesick fool after making this new connection. If it did bother her, she didn't show it, and the confidence only made her more beautiful in the moment, feigned or otherwise.

Sweeping into a mocking bow exaggerated enough to befit a knight in one of Varric's blasted novels, boldness overtook him, and he pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. It was worth it to see the mask falter as she blushed and smiled, ducking her head.

"Go on, you," she giggled and he straightened, matching her grin goofily "Josephine will be waiting."

It was only when he stood in the main hall watching her entrance that he had a chance to regret that he hadn't told her she looked beautiful.

From then on Cullen spent the majority of the evening at the side-lines, keeping a watchful eye on Evelyn's admirers (for purely professional reasons he assured himself, despite the way his jaw clenched every time he detected a note of sleaziness in an interaction) whilst doing his best to avoid his own newfound fans.

One thing that surprised him was how well the Inquisitor danced. From the way she'd spoken about the occasion, he hadn't expected it from her. He wondered how many lessons she'd been forced to endure at a young age to make it that way for he couldn't imagine she'd gained the skill when in the Circle.

At some point in the night he no longer found himself catching frequent glimpses of her, but it didn't overly concern him. The woman had proven herself more than capable of handling herself on countless occasions, and hardly needed him hovering over her all evening. He ended up listening to an old veteran's war stories from the Blight with some interest, which was when Josephine found him.

"Have you seen the Inquisitor?" She asked quietly, smiling tightly.

"Not recently, no," his brow furrowed "Have you asked Leliana? Or The Iron Bull?"

Between those two, nothing went amiss.

"Leliana suggested I ask you," the frustration showed on the diplomat's face, and Cullen did his best not to dwell on the implications of Leliana's advice.

"Should we be worried?" He asked, carefully schooling his features as he scanned the hall for any kind of threat with renewed vigour.

"What? Oh, no, of course not," Josephine shook her head "Just...If you find her, let me know. Wherever she's gone, I suspect it was quite willingly."

* * *

Evelyn sat on one of the benches in the garden, shoes on the ground beside her bare feet, doing her best to simply concentrate on breathing. The bench beneath her was icy cold from the mountain air, chilling her through the flimsy fabric of her dress, but it served to ground her. Anything to focus on other than her own spiralling thoughts would be a godsend, in her eyes.

The day had started off shakily, as she was poked and prodded at by Vivienne's team as the older mage made a series of delightfully cutting backhanded "compliments". She'd managed to brush the comments off well enough at the time, giving herself a mental pep talk, and even feeling quite beautiful once she saw the finished product in the mirror. By the time she had that moment (she was _sure_ it had been a moment...hadn't it?) with Cullen just before the festivities began, she was beginning to hope the night might not be half as bad as she'd initially feared. She'd been wrong.

Evelyn was well aware of her tendency to get overly stressed about anything and everything under the sun, but with the support of her newfound friends many of the duties that came with being Inquisitor had long since stopped bothering her. Helping the people of Thedas was easily the biggest blessing of the job, for if she could make surviving the war just a little easier for somebody and only be rewarded with a tired smile, it was more than worth it to her. She'd grown used to battle and having to rely on her instincts and muscle memory in the thick of it. Now when her heart raced as she faced down an adversary - whether verbally or physically - it was more out of anger and adrenaline than anxiety. However, those weren't people she needed to like her. They could spit insults at her and the Inquisition all they liked, for their opinions didn't matter. This couldn't be further from the case when it came to the people in the hall - and she could hardly rely on bolts of fire in there, either. No matter how much she wished she could. No, here her only weapon was her charm, and that had never been her forte.

It hadn't begun terribly - a few stutters here and there, or a name pronounced incorrectly due to nerves. The problem was, the more it happened, the more nervous she became, and so began the vicious cycle. Of course the company didn't help, either. If she'd made such a mistake around her friends in her inner circle, they'd either not bat an eyelid at it, or turn it into a joke – laughing with her, not at her. In this company, however, she noticed every slight eyebrow raise or snide smirk. Every awkward silence after she made a remark that mustn't have been quite right. Maker, she could practically hear her mother insulting her in the back of her head.

After that it seemed to be one thing after another. She called a Bann's mistress by the wrong name (the name of his wife, no less), she stumbled in her bloody ridiculous shoes in front of a group of beautiful and graceful Orlesian women (the same ones she'd noticed milling around Cullen with charming, brilliant smiles) who could undoubtedly likely master the most complicated dance in the same shoes with as much ease as they would barefoot. The worst moment came after that particular incident. Her heartbeat pounded in her head as she did her best to recover from the embarrassment, wreaking havoc with her ability to hear the story the newest noble she'd been introduced to was telling her. This horrified her when the woman looked at her expectantly for a response and she realised she'd barely caught a word. In an attempt to play it safe, Evelyn simply laughed softly and nodded.

"Why are you laughing?" The woman blinked in confusion "His injuries are severe!"

If the floor opened up and swallowed her whole, Evelyn would have thanked Andraste with her dying breath. That was when she began to spiral. Clutching her glass of wine with both hands purely to disguise their shaking, all she could focus on was the amount of eyes she felt burning into her, and the fact that every bout of laughter in the room felt like it was directed at her.

"I'm sorry, please excuse me," she quickly ducked out of the conversation and made her way towards the door to the garden as swiftly as she could without running.

Josephine had wanted to have the garden open to their guests, but had been overruled. Nobody wanted to risk their newly thriving collection of medicinal herbs being damaged by drunken carelessness, and by keeping their guests limited to the courtyard and main hall, it allowed them to keep a better eye on goings on. Now Evelyn was relieved that she'd fought to keep the garden off-limits. This relief drained from her when she heard the door to the main hall open, and then softly close.

As quietly as she could, she lifted her legs up and slid backwards on the bench. The bushes were positioned in such a way that if she was very quiet, she may go unnoticed and whoever it was might go right past her - or better still, turn around and return to the party. Then her heart sank as it occurred to Evelyn that she was the Inquisitor, and somebody just happening to stumble upon her whilst she was alone and as unarmed as a mage could be wasn't likely to be completely accidental.

Tensing, she began to raise her right hand, hoping she could trust her magic without her staff when she was in such a volatile headspace.

"Inquisitor?" Cullen's voice rang softly through the night air.

Evelyn would rather face down an unknown enemy than have Cullen see her in her current state...But if she didn't respond and he caught sight of her, he'd know she had ignored him. Taking a second to pull herself together, she cleared her throat quietly before calling out.

"I'm here."

It wasn't that she didn't trust Cullen. Out of her three advisors, having him find her like this would likely be the least awkward, and she didn't doubt that he'd understand after what she'd told him the night before. None of that meant that she wanted him to see her like that, however.

Dropping her feet back to the ground, she did her best to straighten her back and school her expression into one of serenity, but even without seeing herself, she knew that it wasn't working. Maker, what sort of ridiculous little girl was she? To be driven into hiding by an event like this, whilst people fought and died all over Thedas in her name? Why had Andraste chosen _her_? Exhaling shakily, she wrapped her arms around herself as Cullen approached and silently sat beside her.

She felt his eyes on her for a few moments before he spoke "The food in there is _terrible_."

Her surprise at his words overtook her panic, and a choked laugh escaped her. Unfazed by her reaction, he carried on casually.

"Of course, don't tell Josephine I said that, but you'd think that these world renowned Orlesian _artisans_ would make their food taste decent as well as look nice."

"The ice sculpture is what got me," she leaned back a little as she played along, eyes still on the ground "Somebody carved and carved and carved that thing, only for it to be mopped from our floor at the end of the night."

"Perhaps it's a performance piece," he suggested, tone mocking "A statement on the fleeting nature of life and the passage of time?"

"Or perhaps it's just very pretentious," she murmured and he gave a deep laugh that send warmth spreading through her chest.

"Most likely," he shrugged before turning the topic to speculation over how many birds had to suffer for a certain, very obnoxious, Marquess' hat to be made.

It was only when the weight was gone from her lungs and she visibly relaxed, able to breathe freely again that he spoke seriously, tone lowering and losing all jest.

"Are you alright?"

"I…" she searched for words that wouldn't be too personal "Wasn't lying when I said I wasn't good at these things. Have I given Josephine a fit by ducking out?"

"I'm sure she'll survive," he brushed off her concern "Did something happen?"

If it wouldn't likely make him flee in a flurry of bashfulness, Evelyn would've hugged Cullen for both his compassion and how smoothly he'd handled her panic.

"It just...I'd make one mistake, which would make me nervous, which would make me make _more_ mistakes and it became a bloodbath," she admitted quietly "In the end I panicked and came out here. I couldn't breathe in there. All of those eyes…"

"You worry about their approval when all of them are here to vie for yours," he spoke, surprising her by placing a reassuring hand over her own.

"I can be the Inquisitor on the battlefield, or when I'm helping people," she sighed "But in a room like that, all I ever feel like is six year old Evelyn Trevelyan, too shy to even speak to the other children."

"And could six year old Evelyn Trevelyan have played an integral role in the mage rebellion? Or survived the conclave? Or the avalanche? Could she have led this Inquisition with more bravery and resilience than I've seen in some of my most seasoned soldiers?"

He spoke so fiercely, so surely, that it brought tears to Evelyn's eyes. If it had been anybody else saying this to her, it would only have increased her terror twofold. Another person who viewed her as some kind of goddess. As a sure-fire salvation. But the way Cullen said it…It was with no expectation of her to be perfect. He respected her on a human level, and while she couldn't quite pinpoint the look in his eyes when he looked at her, she did know that it wasn't blind awe.

"I'm glad you're here, Cullen," she murmured.

The smile she received in return only made her statement all the more true.


	2. Chapter 2

Evelyn loved the Hinterlands. They were everything she'd dreamt of during her days in the Circle, imagining what it may be like to explore Thedas freely. This was why, when Inquisition business brought them there, he was never as annoyed as she might usually be when her mind raced too much to allow sleep to set in.

She'd spent a good three hours tossing and turning in her tent before she gave up, pulled a cloak around herself and stepped out into the cool night air. Bull nodded to her in greeting from his place by the fire, a complete lack of surprise on his face.

"Can't sleep, boss?" He, unsurprisingly, didn't bother to hide his curiosity.

"I just can't get comfortable," she shrugged.

Bull fixed her with a look that screamed "Oh please."

"I can't dump any more of my problems on you," she protested, rolling her eyes "You manage my life more than I do. And in an alarmingly more effective manner, too."

"Don't think of it as me helping you; think of it as indulging my hobby of giving unsolicited advice. Besides, I have a feeling this is a _good_ one."

"It's also one I'm not willing to discuss," she muttered, feeling her cheeks burn.

Bull hooted with laughter "C'mon boss, now you have to tell me. Missing our dear Commander back in that bedroll?"

"No!" She sputtered before groaning and lowering her voice "We've never - _I've_ never...Ugh."

She made a noise of disgust that Cassandra would have been proud of, before her eyes widened when she noticed the look of surprise Bull was giving her.

"Shit, really? I mean, not that I didn't suspect, but…Now I know why Cullen's been so tense."

"You're not funny."

"I'm not kidding! So what's giving you cold feet, huh boss?"

Evelyn groaned, beginning to realise that this wasn't a topic that he was going to drop. If she was going to embarrass herself, she may as well do it properly.

"It's not that. It's...I want to. I do. Ever since I told him that I've never…"

"Had sex," Bull supplied, amusement shining in his eye.

"Yes, that. Ever since I told him that he's been a perfect gentleman."

"Ah," he nodded in understanding "He's letting you take the lead, but you want to be led."

"You could put it like that," she mumbled, barely able to meet his gaze now.

"Oh, boss, in another life you and me would have had so much fun," Bull gave her a sleazy grin to lighten the mood, which only made Evelyn's cheeks burn hotter.

"Bull!" She exclaimed, burying her face in her hands " _Stop_."

"All right, all right," he chuckled, seeming to decide he'd had his fun "But the solution is simple, really."

"Clue me in, then."

" _Take the initiative_."

"I can't!" She protested "I can't even _kiss_ him first, nevermind…"

"Of course you can," he brushed her off easily.

"It's not that easy for me! What if I do something wrong? What if I make a fool of myself?"

"You're overthinking it."

"Hello, my name is Evelyn Trevelyan, nice to meet you."

Bull laughed at that "So you've only got one option, then."

"And that is?"

"You nudge him into taking the plunge."

* * *

After the Winter Palace and the ordeal they'd faced there, everybody had had quite their fill of formal events for the time being. Thankfully, this meant that Cullen was able to avoid his formal garb right up until they returned from Adamant Fortress. This, however, was when his luck ran out, for once they'd had sufficient time to lick their wounds and mourn their losses, Josephine herded the three of them into the War Room to announce her plans for another soirée. The purpose of which, she said, was to celebrate their victory and newfound alliance with the Grey Wardens. It wasn't that Cullen doubted her honesty, but he did suspect a motive she was tactfully leaving unsaid.

After Evelyn's plummet from the top of the fortress, and journeys both in and out of the fade, they once again found it in their best interest to assure, and boast, that their most powerful weapon was still...well, alive. He hated thinking of her in such a way, but he'd attend a thousand parties to celebrate Evelyn walking out of yet another death-trap, alive and well. Mainly because there was only one alternative, and it was infinitely less palatable.

As Cullen waited dutifully in the stairwell outside of Evelyn's quarters, listening for permission to enter, his mind drifted back to the first event they'd thrown in Skyhold. Back before he and Evelyn had gotten together. A small, probably incredibly goofy, smile overcame his face as he remembered those days - when they'd both felt something more for the other, but put far too much energy into convincing themselves that their feeling were one-sided. He was relieved all of that was in the past. When he'd wanted to compliment her, but feared being transparent. When he'd kissed her hand and worried it had been a step too far. Now he could do both with neither fear nor worry, and he very much intended to. Even better, now he had no need to spend the evening worrying that this night might be the one that Evelyn found herself falling for a pampered lordling entirely more suited to her status. No, tonight his main dilemma would be remaining unquestionably professional around her for the entire party. Compared to how conflicted he'd been during the last one, he barely had a care in the world.

"Alright, Cullen," Evelyn's voice came, muffled by the door.

After learning from his prior mistakes, this time he'd taken special care with shaving and styling his hair. When he saw Evelyn, he was grateful that he had. Like the last, her dress was sleek and figure hugging, but this time had straps, and such a plunging V-shaped neckline that he was sure she was trying to kill him. It was a shade of blue so deep it almost seemed black. Small, bright white gems littered the hem of the skirts, scattering and decreasing in quantity as they ascended towards the bodice, which was bare of decoration, giving the generous display of skin centre stage. They also adorned a decorative piece of netting, holding her dark hair in an elaborate bun at the nape of her neck. He silently took note of the fact that this time the mark was not displayed, but covered by long gloves made from the same silky fabric as her dress. Undoubtedly this was Evelyn's decision - the revelations from the fade had bothered her greatly, no matter how much she tried to hide it. The overall outfit itself was a far cry from the huge skirts that were currently in fashion, but he suspected that was Vivienne's intention. The Inquisitor had to stand out...and Maker, did she.

"You should've heard the tale that damned seamstress spun as she put me in this," Evelyn spoke as soon as he was in sight, eyeing herself with a disgruntled expression in the mirror.

"Oh?" He humoured her, approaching to stand behind her.

" _You shall be the very night's sky, Inquisitor_!" She feigned an Orlesian accent remarkably well " _If the sun's fire reminds us of Andraste, then the moon's light will remind us of her Herald_!"

Well that explained her mood.

"Maker," he snorted, waiting for her to continue.

A painful metaphor wasn't quite enough to put her in this much of a temper.

" _The blue shall represent the Wardens_!" She continued, tugging one of the gloves further up her arm " _And the stars, those that we have lost_!"

Cullen winced. So there it was.

"Daft bint," Evelyn scowled "Yes, those soldiers, those people - _Stroud_ , for Andraste's sake - died so that they could amount to trinkets on a bloody dress. Do me a favour, sweetheart, if I don't make it out of this, sew a ruby onto your mantle. Then it'll all be worth it."

"Oh, you're worth at least three," Cullen chose to joke, rather than scold her for even suggesting such a thing, and was rewarded when she breathed a laugh.

It was only when Evelyn looked at Cullen properly in the mirror that she stopped and sighed. It seemed that every time they threw one of these parties, he ended up at her side whilst she lost her mind. During the first, she'd been surprised at how easily he'd recognised her panic that night in the garden, and how readily and smoothly he'd dealt with it. Of course, since then she'd learned of his own demons, and the pieces of the puzzle had fallen into place. She was grateful that now she was in a position to help him in return.

"Well," she sighed, adjusting her tone and meeting the gaze of his reflection "If I'm the moon, _you're_ the sun."

She spoke in breathy, exaggerated tones to show her teasing, but the contrast between them seemed all the clearer dressed as they were. With Cullen's health improving as he got through the withdrawals, it showed physically - his eyes brighter and complexion now a healthy tan. When combined with his golden hair, brilliant red attire, and the warmth in both his smile and amber eyes as he regarded her, it wasn't too much of a stretch.

Then there was herself - ivory skinned and raven locked, eyes a cool shade of green. The dark blue of her dress completed the image. They were a perfect picture of night and day.

"As, erm, _touching_ as the metaphor is," he snorted, stepping forward and placing a soft kiss at the side of her jaw, never breaking eye contact in the mirror "The moon merely reflects the sun's light, so I'd have to disagree."

"Damn," she sighed lightly, leaning backwards into him with an amused smile "I suppose we'll just have to be ourselves, then."

"I suppose so."

Closing her eyes, Evelyn exhaled slowly, simply enjoying the moment before she was to be thrown to the wolves.

"Nervous?" He murmured.

"Well it can't be as much of a travesty as the Winter Palace."

"I didn't think my dancing was _that_ bad."

"I enjoyed it more than Florianne's," one corner of her lips twisted upwards.

"Consider me honoured," she felt him chuckle at her back.

Evelyn just managed to catch the next sentence before it fully left her mouth.

"I-" her eyes flew open, startled by how readily the confession had come to her.

"Yes?"

Turning around, she tilted her head at him "How are _you_ feeling?"

"I'll be better once this is over."

"Not well enough to dance with me again tonight, then? You can't tell me you don't dance anymore, now you've shown me that's far from the truth."

"It may spur rumours," he murmured doubtfully.

"No more than kissing me on the battlements does," she joked, but when he gave no response other than a bashful cough, uncertainty began to creep in "Of course you know I'm only teasing. I know you want to keep it - us - quiet. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable-"

As she spoke she moved to duck past Cullen, intending to retrieve her necklace from her nightstand if only to give her something to do with all of the nervous energy she found herself filled with because of both the awkward silence, and how close she'd just come to giving a love confession - moments before they wouldn't have any time alone for _hours._ And what if it went badly? Then she'd have to maintain a professional facade through that for Andraste only knew how long.

When he caught her by the arm, she spun and stared at him wide-eyed, as though he could've guessed what was running through her mind. He was very good at that, after all.

" _Private_ , not quiet - and certainly not secret," he corrected, brow furrowed in concern "You do know that, don't you?"

Evelyn's heart warmed and she felt guilty for what she'd been secretly concerned about, despite the fact that she'd always known it wasn't true. The crease in his brow deepened, and only then did she realise she hadn't responded. With Bull's advice ringing in her ears and an unusual spike of bravery brought on either by his admittance or how confident she felt in the dress, she tilted her head up and kissed him.

At first Cullens stiffened in surprise, not expecting it from her, but then his lips twitched in an effort to hold back a smile as he pulled her closer and kissed her back. Wrapping her arms around his neck for leverage, Evelyn pulled herself closer, pressing against him as one of his hands moved up her neck, stopping just short of tangling itself in her hair as he seemed to remember where they were and what the night held in store.

She pulled back but stayed close, her arms still wrapped around his neck. It was a good thing she wasn't wearing lipstick that night. When they opened their eyes, she couldn't help but give a smug half-smile at the way Cullen's pupils were blown wide with desire.

"We should…" she trailed off, slightly breathless.

"I'll fetch your necklace," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead before taking a step backwards.

* * *

If Evelyn hadn't already been guaranteed Cullen's full attention for the night before their encounter in her quarters, she certainly had it now. He watched from the sidelines as she chatted to a young nobleman, who reminded Cullen of a peacock in everything from the way he dressed to the way he held himself. It might have bothered him if not for the way Evelyn's brow quirked, and the slight twist of her smile. He knew her well enough to know that was the look she had on her face when she was talking to a complete and utter idiot. Thankfully he'd yet to see it on her face when she was with him.

"Our little Evie's something, huh?"

He started at Bull's voice, unaware of his presence at his side until then. Then, after his words had sunken in, he bristled a little at them.

"Yes, she is," he replied curtly.

"You're a lucky man, Commander," Bull sighed, leaning back against the wall behind them "I bet she's something else entirely behind closed doors."

"Excuse me?" Cullen choked out, stunned.

He'd spoken too loudly, with multiple guests turning to eye them curiously - including Evelyn. Straightening up, he schooled his expression before giving her what he hoped was a reassuring half-smile. She returned to her conversation, although he noticed how her eyes kept flickering back to he and Bull from thereon.

"I didn't mean any offence," Bull continued pleasant, completely unfazed by Cullen's reaction "What I meant was...well, it's always the quiet ones, right?"

"I'm sure I have no idea what you mean," he spoke through gritted teeth, their current setting being the only thing keeping his temper in check.

"Oh, c'mon. Reading people is my business, and reading people like _that_? Well, I make it my business - And Evelyn?" He sighed wistfully "I mean, the way she looks at you tells me all I need to know. Let me guess - she was all shy and cautious at first. Maybe a little unsure of herself, too self-conscious to initiate much, but once you guys got past that - y'know, after a little while of you taking the lead, helping her find her confidence...Firecracker. Easy."

By now Cullen's fists were clenched and his face was burning - although due to embarrassment or anger, he couldn't be sure.

"You ought to be very, _very_ careful of how you speak about the Inquisitor. _Especially_ in my presence," his words were a growl now, fighting to keep his voice low.

Evelyn glanced towards them again, and her eyes widened at what she saw, telling Cullen he wasn't doing a very good job of looking calm. Snapping her attention back to the noble, it was clear that she was making some fast excuses to leave the conversation, already taking a step or two in their direction.

"Okay, okay," Bull raised his hands in mock-surrender "Just thought I'd congratulate you, is all. I'll leave the two of you to it."

The smug smirk on his face did nothing to quell Cullen's anger, but before he could say much else, Bull was gone and Evelyn was striding towards him.

"Is everything alright?" She asked, shooting a worried look towards Bull's retreating figure.

With Evelyn now in front of him, the full meaning of what the Iron Bull had been saying began to sink in, and Cullen found himself struggling to look her in the eye. Had it all been true? He'd yet to see the Qunari mistaken. When Evelyn had reluctantly admitted to her lack of experience one night in his office, he'd taken a step back - both literally and metaphorically - determined not to make her feel pressured into anything. Maker, he'd rather die than make her feel that way. Since then he'd left the progression of their relationship up to her, content to be patient (and keep any frustration completely hidden from her), but had he taken _too_ much of a step back? Was Bull right? Evelyn herself had referred to him on multiple occasions as her best friend - which had resulted in no small amount of mocking from the Chargers...right up until Cullen caught their leader having a stern talk with them about it. If anybody knew her mind - or rather, anything in it that he himself didn't know - it was Bull.

"Just...Bull being Bull," Cullen reassured, training his eyes on her face and not the plunging neckline of her dress which suddenly seemed to be calling for his attention even more.

"He's rather good at that," she joked, although she didn't look convinced.

Her hand twitched, as though she was going to reach for his arm for a moment, before she seemed to think better of it and moved her hands behind her back. This did nothing to make her chest less prominent.

"I'll see you later?" She asked, still staring at him searchingly "After this is over?"

"Before that," he reached out and squeezed her arm in the show of physical affection that she had been so unsure of "I owe you a dance, after all."

The way her face lit up made all the rumours it would fuel more than worth it "Really? Cullen, you don't have to-."

"I want to," he reassured "In any case, I'll just have to dance with Josephine afterwards to cover my tracks."

"Spurning the Inquisitor for her ambassador?" Evelyn teased "You'll cause quite the scandal."

"And if I dance with Leliana too?" He went along with her teasing, unable to stop himself from grinning like a fool.

"Your reputation as a playboy will never die down," she laughed, and it was nice to hear after so long of him only ever seeming to see her either worried or bloody.

"I suppose I'll have to bear the burden of my true nature being outed," he chuckled.

As if making her smile like that could ever be a burden, no matter the consequences, Cullen thought to himself as he led the Inquisitor to the appointed dance floor.

* * *

By the time Evelyn got back to her quarters that night, she was exhausted. Formal events had long since lost most of their intimidation factor, but they were no less tiring. Almost immediately she began to undress, tugging the gloves from her arms before practically clawing her way out of the dress and stepping out of the shoes that had begun to pinch her feet ten minutes into the event. Once she was left in the middle of her quarters in nothing but her underwear, she gave a sigh of relief and padded towards her chest of drawers.

Mindful (and hopeful) of the fact that Cullen would likely show up once Skyhold had quieted down and it was safe to sneak to her quarters, she chose a prettier nightdress than she would normally wear. It was a gift from Dorian after he'd spent one evening expressing his sheer horror at the loose-fitting nature of most of her clothing, made from silver silk but otherwise tastefully plain. The matching robe was made from a sheer black gauzy fabric, with white moons and stars adorning it. Evelyn had fallen in love with it, and often wore it for the sake of wearing it when she knew she wouldn't be disturbed. She'd never quite felt brave enough to wear it in front of Cullen. Until tonight.

Tying the robe closed, she plucked the gems from her hair and then picked up a comb. By the time she was finished, keeping her eyes open felt like one of the hardest battles she'd fought yet. Eyeing the bed, Evelyn sighed. It wouldn't hurt to at least lie down while she waited for Cullen - and even if she did fall asleep, she didn't doubt she'd wake when the door to her rooms opened. Sliding onto the bed, she hugged one of the huge pillows to her chest, nestling her face in it with a contented sigh as she lay down. Before she knew it, she was fast asleep.

She had no way of knowing how much time had passed before she was starting awake at a hand falling gently on her shoulder. With how much she travelled nowadays, and the state of the world in general, Evelyn rarely awoke entirely certain of where she was, or if she was safe. It wasn't just the possibility of an attack that weighed on her mind, but also of assassins and kidnappers - especially as the war heated up. For her peace of mind Leliana tried to keep the full extent of her security measures hidden from her, but they still hadn't escaped her notice.

It was only when her eyes met Cullen's that her heart stopped racing and she breathed a sigh of relief.

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she admitted, running a hand through her hair as she sat up.

"I shouldn't have disturbed you," he apologised, already moving to take a step back "Go back to sleep-."

"No!" She immediately cringed at her quick response "Honestly, Cullen, it's fine. It'll be a while before I can get back to sleep now anyway."

He looked like he might apologise again, but didn't at the warning look she gave him. Moving the pillow she'd been clinging to behind her back, she scooted backwards and gestured for Cullen to make himself comfortable. Bull's words were whirring around in her head as she watched him make himself comfortable, looking very different in his shirt and breeches, cross-legged on her bed. He was a far sight from the Commander who she'd seen training their troops that morning, steely-eyed and uptight. She felt almost flattered to be able to see this other side of him - the completely different to the man who Varric described as spending "too long with a serious expression on his face".

" _You nudge him into taking the plunge_ ," Bull had said.

It was all well and good in theory. As she'd gotten changed for the evening she'd almost felt quite confident. Of course, that was before Cullen was there with her, with his eyes and his smirk and that damn scar. It was only when a small smile played on his lips that she realised she'd been staring.

"I, uh," she coughed, flushing "I squirrelled away some wine once everybody left."

Leaning over the side of the bed, she reached underneath and felt around blindly until her fingertips met the bottle and two glasses she'd stored underneath. If soldiers were terrible gossips, servants were worse, and she knew two wine glasses in her quarters out in the open wouldn't go amiss. Once she sat up again, it was Cullen's turn to blush as she caught his eyes roaming over her bare legs poking out of the robe from mid-thigh down.

Evelyn couldn't help it, she started laughing. This dispelled the nervous tension that had been building up. Cullen gave a low chuckle, shaking his head in amusement as she poured him a glass and handed it to him.

"I feel like it's been an age since we had a chance to spend any real time together," he admitted, taking her in a little more subtly now.

"It's been far too long," Evelyn agreed with a sigh.

Their time together over the last few weeks had consisted solely of moments stolen while they had other places to be. It was nice to finally be together with no sense of urgency or guilt.

"Once this is over, we'll have all the time in the world," he sighed, placing his free hand over hers before hesitating "That is, I mean, if you want-"

"I hope so," she interrupted, smiling softly.

For some time they caught up, revelling in being able to have conversations that have lives depending on the outcome and simply enjoy each other's company. Soon Evelyn found herself forgetting her nerves - although the wine probably helped a little with that - laughing more freely and subconsciously shifting closer to him as they talked.

Draining the last of her glass, Evelyn leaned haphazardly over the edge of the bed to put the glass on the floor, only to yelp when she lost her balance and began to fall. That was, until a large hand clamped over her lower thigh and pulled her back onto the bed...and directly underneath Cullen. Amidst the tumble, her robe had more or less completely opened itself, and her nightgown had ridden up to reveal all of her legs as Cullen had righted her. In the back of her mind Evelyn thanked the Maker that she'd opted to keep her underwear on when she'd changed. Most of her attention, however, was fixed on how close Cullen's face was to her, the amber of his eyes only a thin ring around his pupils.

Then he was kissing her.

Without hesitation Evelyn returned the kiss, one hand coming up to caress the stubble along his jaw whilst the other struggled to untangle itself from the arm of her robe. In a rare show of abandon, Cullen dropped his own glass over the side of the bed, freeing up the hand that wasn't on her leg before sliding the robe from her shoulders, freeing her arms.

"I'll clean that later," he parted a little from her to murmur, cupping the side of her face.

"I don't care," she breathed a laugh, tilting her lips up to meet his again.

The hand on her thigh inched upwards, thumb rubbing back and forth whilst the other slid down from her jaw and towards her chest before hesitating. Weaving her fingers into his hair, Evelyn's free hand curled around his wrist in encouragement, sliding down so that she lay fully under him now. This seemed to be all the reassurance he needed, her left breast fitting perfectly in his hand as he squeezed gently, allowing more of his weight to rest atop her. Evelyn gave a soft gasp that bordered on a moan, surprised at how _good_ it felt.

"Are you alright?" He paused his attentions immediately, eyes opening.

"Mm-hmm," she nodded, almost embarrassed at her own breathlessness.

"Are you sure you want-."

Her heart warmed at the concern for her that showed so clearly on his face.

"I want _you_ ," she interrupted him to make her confession, feeling oddly vulnerable as she stared up at him "But...What if I do something wrong?"

Cullen's face softened, his nose nudging against hers.

"I don't care," he murmured softly, the hand at her chest momentarily trailing down and squeezing her hip encouragingly before he echoed her words "I want you, not just...this."

If only to stop herself from professing her love then and there, Evelyn used the hand that was in his hair as leverage to pull him into another kiss, bringing one leg up to press against the side of his hip. She would tell him later.

 **A/N: I never intended for this to be quite so long, but hey. I don't write anything this close to smut very often (which shows you how PG-13 my writing usually is) so I hope I did a decent job! Honestly, I'm a sucker for the idea of Bull covertly running shy!Inquisitor's personal life, I can't help it, he's one of my favourites.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I know it's been 84 years since I posted Part 1, but here it is! The final part. I hope you guys like it!**

Evelyn couldn't help but smile at Cullen in the mirror as she gave her reflection one last check. Their final defeat of Corypheus had sent them into a sort of second honeymoon phase, giddy with the knowledge that they could talk of a future together without the Magister's shadow lurking over their plans like a nightmare. Now they knew they _had_ a future. They'd remained in her quarters for two whole days after her victory, sneaking out only in the dead of night to swipe a little food from the kitchens. The jokes they still endured, one entire fortnight on, were well worth it. Dorian especially liked to insist that if he hadn't been the one to lose patience and swan into her quarters one evening, covering his eyes dramatically with one hand while insisting that Cullen had hogged their hero quite enough, they would still be there now. The amused look she'd shared with Cullen at this insistence told her he was probably right.

Cullen returned the smile warmly, almost sending her weak at the knees - damn him. He was securing the last of the buttons on his formal uniform - something she'd envied him for during her dress fitting. Josephine had been the architect of her appearance on this night, a gown of brilliant white. A bodice of delicate lace hugged her figure, with sleeves of the same material clinging tightly to her arms like a second skin, covering the last of the bruises that had yet to fade from their final, bloody battle. From her waist down, however, layers upon layers of golden-trimmed chiffon formed her skirts, cascading down and flowing airily with her every move. Happy that the dress was sitting properly, she turned her attention to her hair. The upper half had been plaited away from her face, with white roses (bewitched to prevent wilting) nestled amongst her locks - the rest of which were left to curl freely down her back. Tilting her head, she stared at herself, unsure what to make of the whole thing. She looked like she belonged in one of Varric's cheesy romance novels; a romantic heroine who swooned a lot and spoke only in iambic pentameter - often about things like flowers and kissing. But despite that, she liked it. If only because of what they were celebrating.

Of course, her true, and her favourite, celebrations were those that were held by her inner circle, open only to themselves and the rest of Skyhold's residents. Such parties were just that - parties, and not political affairs.

"I do believe this is the first time I've seen you smile before one of these."

"This is the first time I've had cause to truly celebrate," she shrugged, turning to look at him and not his reflection "All that was on my mind during the last one was what was to come. More battles. More death. Perhaps mine, for all I knew. Now, however…"

"We won," he nodded, approaching her "And we're both here. I prayed for as much every day, and I'm delighted the Maker saw fit to grant it. If only because it means I got to see you like this."

His eyes trailed over her form and she grinned, amazed (yet pleased) that his compliments could still set her cheeks ablaze.

"I look okay, then?" she joked.

"You look devastating."

"Devastating?" she echoed, tilting her head "I'll take that. Of course, you'll be fighting the ladies off with a stick."

"Only because Josephine won't let me use my sword," he deadpanned.

"I do hope that's not a euphemism," she teased, quirking an eyebrow at him "You'll give me a complex. Next thing you know I'll be buying a mask and giggling at your every word."

"Now _that_ would be a crime."

"The mask or the giggle?"

"You know which."

At this, she did an eerily good job of lending an Orlesian accent to a giggle, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

* * *

Cullen's greatest struggle all evening was trying to tear his eyes from Evelyn. He suspected he was not the only man in the room fighting that particular war. She looked like something from a sonnet. She'd likely be the focus of a few before the night was through, if not already. But that was to be expected. She was the woman not only of the hour, but of the century - and most of all, of his heart. It was also not lost on him how remarkable a resemblance her gown bore to a wedding dress, and the far-too-innocent looks Josephine kept sending his way made it clear that this was no accident. Of course, damn her, it had the intended effect. It was all too easy for him to picture a veil atop Evelyn's head in place of flowers, walking slowly towards him down the aisle of a chantry. It was only when he realised he was likely staring at her with a stupid look on his face that he coughed and straightened - although he still kept an eye on her.

In truth, he felt a spark of pride as he watched her float around the hall, for she'd blossomed just as much as the flowers in her hair, and twice as beautifully. Naturally, there was still tension in her stance, and she wasn't quite as comfortable as she was when solely among friends, but she was a far sight from the ball of nerves she'd been the first time they'd gone through a party like this. No, tonight she swept from guest to guest, offering smiles and warm words, accepting well deserved praise for her victory with grace and humility. Maker, he wanted to marry this woman.

The moment he properly comprehended the thought, it jarred him at first - but only at first. But then he almost started laughing at himself for being so surprised in the first place. Of course he did. When he dared to envision the future (which was more and more often, now that the war was won) it always had her in it, by his side, usually smiling softly at him - sometimes even with an infant in her arms. A chubby, babbling baby with his blond curls and her vivid green eyes. As if sensing his thoughts, the very eyes he was thinking of were suddenly on him, and she flushed and smiled over at him. He gave a lopsided half-smile back and she returned her attention to the soldier she'd been talking to, although her gaze flickered back to him more than once.

"You two are positively disgusting, you know that?" Dorian's voice came from his right, tearing him from thoughts of marriage and children.

Only he could make such a statement sound somewhat like a compliment. Cullen snorted, but straightened up, reminding himself to stay professional - despite how difficult it was, amidst all the joy.

"I have no idea what you mean," he replied.

"Of course not," Dorian sipped at his wine, seemingly content to enjoy him in the newfound sport of Inquisitor-watching "I have to know, though - cousinly concern and all that - when are you going to ask her?"

The relation was distant and tenuous at best, but Dorian did like to use it as justification to behave much in the way an older brother would. Cullen couldn't grudge him this, either. What Evelyn perceived as her own weakness - her tendency towards worrying herself sick - had many of her inner circle feeling distinctly protective over her. Although she often confessed feeling guilty for inspiring such feelings amongst her friends, Cullen was glad for it. Often it was the only thing that kept him sane, watching her leave Skyhold again and again, each time off to face yet another person who wanted her dead. He knew she was capable of defending herself - she had come back alive each and every time, after all - but it was still nice to know that she had the likes of Dorian, Cassandra, Iron Bull, and even Cole, willing to spill the blood of anybody who wished her harm. Anybody who might have seen fit to sneak up behind her, while she was otherwise occupied.

Even the thought had him clenching his jaw, and he thought to himself - likely for the billionth time since her grand victory - that he'd never find a way to fully thank the Maker for the fact that such instances would be less and less now. He didn't dare to hope they'd never happen. Evelyn was still the Inquisitor, and the Corypheus had left a hell of a political climate for them to navigate in his wake. Then there was the matter of wherever Solas had disappeared to. Both he and Evelyn agreed that wherever he had gone, it likely wasn't good. Their fighting days weren't full over - but they weren't quite so grim, and hopefully filled with more words than swords (he was sure he'd regret this hope next time some Orlesian tried to outwit him with double-meanings and honeyed words, but still).

"Well?" Dorian asked, reminding him that he was still there.

"Ask her what?" Cullen asked distractedly.

The mage uttered an exasperated curse in Tevene - something about blind idiots, from what Cullen could make out.

"Well, at least you have a pretty face," he sighed, sipping at his wine "Come, Commander. You can tell me - I _can_ keep a secret."

 _That_ , he very much doubted.

"I have no idea what you mean," he continued to play dumb, making a show of scanning the room for any potential threats, if only to keep his eyes from Evelyn.

Of course he knew what Dorian was getting at. It seemed to be a hot topic in Skyhold. With Josephine's hand in the dress, and Dorian now needling him for information, he wondered how many more thinly veiled interrogations or "nudges" in the right direction were coming their way. It was well intentioned - he'd even concede that it was amusing - but he wouldn't allow it to sway him.

They'd been through much together. Too much, some might think. What was needed now was time to breathe and to relax. To gain their bearing in this new world, free of Corypheus, of the Venatori, of demons falling from the sky. He refused to add weight to her mind, now that it was free of all these threats. She'd told him herself that whenever she envisioned her future, he was in it. That was more than enough for the time being.

Evelyn finished her conversation and began to weave through the crowd of guests to the opposite end of the hall, towards the door that led to the gardens. This gave him pause, remembering the last time she'd done this (which now felt like a lifetime ago). But the worry eased when she turned as she slipped through the door, her lips sloped into a smirk, before she shut the door behind her.

* * *

Tonight, it snowed. Living in the mountains, she'd thought they'd spend much of their time buried in the stuff, but Morrigan's words rang true. There was some sort of magic, embedded into the very roots of Skyhold itself, which seemed to shield them from the harshest of the elements. They could hardly have a herb garden if it didn't. Sitting on the bench, she tilted her head back and watched the snowflakes dance through the air around her, paying no mind to the ones that landed on her neck, face and hands, chilling her skin. It was a nice contrast to the humidity that was developing in the hall, with so many bodies packed into the space.

The door to the gardens opened and she smiled, knowing without looking who it was.

"Fancy seeing you here," she said, once his footsteps drew nearer, crunching in the freshly fallen snow.

"Something about this seems familiar," he joked, joining her on the bench.

"I much prefer this time," she replied.

Not only because Corypheus was now dead. She remembered the days when even a warm look from the man at her side could send her into inner turmoil - did he like her? Did he think of her as often as she thought of him? If so, _how_? What could a man like that see in somebody as meek and nondescript as her? If, in what she thought at the time were here wildest and most delusional dreams, she was right, and he _was_ fond of her, she'd been convinced it wouldn't last long. No, he'd get to know her and see how plain and boring she truly was and run off with...with Cassandra, or Josephine, or the Empress of Orlais, for all she bloody knew.

Now? Now she could laugh at herself for thinking that. If only because she was now aware that almost the exact same thoughts had been running through Cullen's mind at the time, too. But being able to laugh at it now didn't mean it was easy at the time. How many nights had such thoughts kept her awake? How many butterflies had waged a war in her stomach in the run-up to their meetings? If anybody had told her where she'd be tonight - that she'd even be alive to see this night - she would've sent them straight to the infirmary, sure that they were delirious with exhaustion, or fever, or something along those lines.

She breathed a laugh, shaking her head.

"What's so funny?" he asked, slipping his hand into hers.

"Everything," she said honestly, squeezing his hand "I'm almost certain that if we listen closely enough, we'll hear the Maker laughing at us."

He smirked in that way which made it look like the scar on his upper lip was pulling it up - the same way that always seemed to make her weak at the damned knees, and looked up, as though testing her theory.

"He can laugh all he likes. So long as he keeps us together."

"We don't need him for that," she said, no shortage of affection in her tone.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him turn to look at her, and his smirk turned into a full-blown smile.

"No," he agreed quietly "We don't."


End file.
